The Awakening
by The Airman
Summary: A man wakes up in a world under Combine control. Now he has to fight to find who's with him, who's against him, and who the hell Gordon Freeman is.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Awakening**

Darkness. That was all that he saw. He heard a voice, it was female, but there was something…different about it. It seemed, fake, he listened harder and finally made out what it was saying.

"Cryo test subject 00-02 scheduled reanimation in progress." The voice was mechanical.

He opened his eyes, but all he saw was cracked glass, making it impossible to see what was outside.

"Cryo test subject 00-02 partially reanimated, subject release in progress." The voice had a soothing tone underlying it he thought.

He heard a hissing noise, then the cracked glass opened, a fog flooded the room then dissipated, he stepped out of the tube, not knowing what to expect. He was instinctively uneasy but he had no clue why. He was under the impression that he was in danger. That's what made him uneasy.

He suddenly became aware of his surroundings; he was standing in the middle of an empty room. It looked very clean, the cryo unit behind him made a low humming noise, but that was the only noise he heard besides the sound of his breathing.

He looked around but he saw no windows and only one door, he went over to the door, but there was no handle. He saw a red light over the door. He looked around again and saw a steel table behind the cryo unit, on the table was an olive green shirt with 'Rangers' printed on it. That meant something to him but he couldn't remember what. There was also a pair of tan camouflage pants, and a pair of black combat boots. He put these on and noticed something else on the table, a pair of dog tags that read:

**Jones**

**Lance, A.**

**244988469**

**AB+**

He put these on and looked around again.

"Hello?" he called.

"Subject 00-02 fully reanimated, subject containment cycle concluded," the light pulsed green and the door hissed open, "Subject 00-02 released."

He stepped through the door, unlike the room he just left, the hallway was dimly lit by red emergency lights, rust covered the steel walls, and the floor. The ceiling was crumbling, and most of the lights were shattered.

Bullet holes lined the walls, and old shell casings littered the floor. He was still extremely uneasy, and the more he looked around, the more he wanted a way to defend himself. That's when he noticed a faded red arrow painted on the wall. The word 'Armory' was stenciled above it.

Jones followed the arrow, first at a brisk walk, and then a jog. The sound of rusty shell casings scraped and echoed across the bare walls. He kept alert for any signs of life, but so far he didn't notice any.

The arrow finally led Jones to a large rusted pair of doors. He tried to open them but they were locked from the inside. He shook his head in irritation. He then started kicking the door, after a few minutes the locks started to break.

Jones inhaled, reared his foot back and pushed forward, only to hear a buzz and a click as the door unlocked and swung open. Jones' momentum propelled him forward and he landed face first into the room.

"Armory room unlocked." The cool voice announced.

"Thanks for the warning." Jones mumbled to himself.

He then got to his feet and brushed himself off. He looked around and saw what could only be described as chaos. Rifles were scattered all over the floor, along with clips, shell casings, single bullets, ammo boxes, and grenades.

Jones walked over to a set of dusty steel green boxes that had **"FN P-90"** stenciled on it. Curiosity aroused, he opened a case and saw four compact rifles, still wrapped in plastic. He picked up one of the rifles, and took it out of the plastic. He worked the action on the rifle, which opened and closed with a satisfying clack.

He saw that the rifle wasn't loaded, and he looked through the other boxes. He opened one box that said **"CMBT VST"** which he opened. In it was a black combat vest, which he put on. Another box contained clips for the rifle. He picked up one of the clips and looked it over. It was thin, but long. Jones looked at the rifle and saw that the clip was fed through the top.

Jones sled the clip in place and chambered a round. The action was so natural that it was like breathing. He picked up six more clips and a couple of grenades off the ground. After a few minutes of stocking up on ammo, which included a Desert Eagle sidearm, and, much to his surprise, an M72 LAW disposable rocket launcher.

'Ok,' Jones thought to himself, 'I need to find a way out of here, question is,' he stopped and looked for any indication of where he was, "Where is here." He finished aloud.

He made his way down the halls looking for a way out. He walked for what seemed like hours until he finally an old **EXIT** sign that was cracked, its light had burned out a long time ago.

There was an electronic lock next to the door, and, unfortunately the light was red.

"Helpful computer lady?" Jones tried.

The light still pulsed red.

"Fuck this." He muttered and raised his rifle.

The light pulsed green and the door opened.

Jones shook his head in wonder. "What the hell is with this place?" he asked himself quietly.

Sunlight shined through the door and momentarily blinded him. Squinting, he put his hand over his eyes and looked around. He tried to find his bearings, but the surrounding dry, barren landscape made it difficult. He looked around in wonder. Everything around him looked dead. The whole world looked dead to him. Even the sky seemed different, darker somehow, more sinister. He heard a hiss as the door closed behind him.

Jones turned in enough time to see the door vanish before his eyes. Jones blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked at where the door was supposed to be. But the only thing there was dirt and rocks. Jones cocked his head in wonder, he poked the spot where the door was, but instead of hitting dirt as he expected, the barrel of the gun went into the hill and hit something with a metallic thud.

Jones let out a low whistle. He turned away from the door and saw two plumes of dirt headed his direction. His hand brushed against the LAW launcher, wondering if he should waste it already. He squinted at the two plumes and saw two black looking armored cars. They almost reminded him of the transports used by the Germans in World War II. He looked around for a good place to take cover and waited for them to arrive.

"Unit 72 to command, approaching target area." The CP unit said into his mike.

"Roger that Unit 72, check area for the source of electrical disturbance then return to routine patrol."

"Command, Unit 72 copies."

In the back of one APC two CP units were discussing events that had happened involving an Elite, and a nice old black lady. They were snickering quietly to themselves when the lead unit ordered them to be quiet. They fell silent until one of them started snickering again.

72 turned, "Shut the hell up or you're walking back."

One of them pointed to the other, "But he started it!"

"I don't care who started, I'll finish it!" The two CP units burst into laughter.

72 turned back, swearing under his breath. He stared out across the barren landscape to they're objective. Combine scanners had picked up a surge of electrical energy in this area, and the higher ups wanted to recon the area to make sure there was no rebel activity.

While the Combine didn't fear the rebel forces, they did acknowledge that they were becoming an increasing nuisance. 72 shook his head in disgust. Why anyone would want to fight against the Combine forces was a mystery to him. The Combine had helped him find purpose, but there were those, he turned to look at the two CP units who were still cutting up, who deserved nothing but a quick and painful death.

72's APC pulled to a stop where Jones was standing not five minutes before. 72 grabbed his Pulse Rifle and climbed out of the vehicle. Units 45 and 63 stepped out of the back, smg's slung over their shoulders, still laughing and joking around. 72 cursed the Elite that kicked them out of his unit and sent them here.

The second APC pulled in front of the first, the noise of the engine masked the sound of the LAW launcher firing.

Jones waited for the second APC to pull up for two reasons, the first was because the occupants of the first had already gotten out. The second was he didn't want to give his position away to early. He waited until the APC was about ten feet away, sighted the back of the APC, and fired. The launcher jerked in his hands as the missile jumped out of the tube.

72 saw the missile streak towards the second APC, the missile struck and detonated, lifting the back of the APC off the ground, killing the occupants inside. 72 cursed and traced the smoke trail back to cluster of rocks. He primed a grenade and threw it behind the rocks. The rebel didn't even try to run, 72 smirked as the rebel was fixing to meet his end.

Suddenly the grenade came soaring back, detonating in mid-air, causing a piece of shrapnel from the grenade struck him in the arm. He wordlessly took the pain and fired at the cluster at rocks. He then noticed that the other two CP units weren't firing at the rebel. Instead they were staring at him.

"What the hell are you two doing? If you don't shoulder you fucking weapons I will personally report you to the administrator!" He screamed.

Unit 45 raised his smg, but instead of aiming at the rebels location, he instead aimed it at Unit 72.

72 stopped, "What are you doing?" he asked again, quieter this time.

"Sorry sir." 45 said, and fired.

The 9mm struck him in the shoulder and spun him around, which caused him to face Jones, who was cautiously approaching, watching what was unfolding before his eyes. 72 reached for his pistol, but before he could clear his weapon from its holster Jones raised the P-90 and put three rounds square in his chest.

Unit 72's vision started to dim, Jones bent down to relieve him of his weapon, and the last thing 72 saw, was the word Rangers on the front of Jones shirt.

45 and 63 were conversing between themselves. Suddenly 63 pulled out an old Motorola radio, "Sierra outpost this is Jefferson, we have the package, package is secure."

**A/N: So I've been tryin to get a Half Life story off the ground for a while now and I gotta say… I actually feel pretty good about this one. And for those of you who read A raid, you might remember the two CP units. I've been wantin to use em in something else and here was my excuse. Anyways read it and tell me what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Keep you friends close**

**Research Central Hub Sierra Delta**

**Undisclosed Location, United States**

Across the world a man in a black suit stood in the middle of a large circular room. He looked at a large monitor mounted on the wall which showed recent satellite imagery of Europe. Around him dozens of scientists on computers, gathering intel on an enemy that they already knew so much, and yet so little about.

The man took a sip from his coffee mug as a smiled played across his lips. In short, he thought, they were the perfect enemy. Just when you thought you had them figured out, they evolved and the struggle took a turn for the worst.

One of the scientists stood and faced the man, "Sir, we have word from our outpost outside of City 17, they have a package."

"Oh really?" the man asked in an amused tone.

"Yes sir." Came the reply.

The man set his cup down on a nearby desk and walked over to the workers computer, "Is the package one of the original two?"

The scientist shook his head, "They don't know yet sir, how do you want them to proceed?"

The man shook his head, "If the package is one of the original two, then subdue if necessary but don't eliminate them, if not, dispose of the package accordingly."

**3 miles outside of City 17**

Jones faced the two CP units, Pulse Rifle at the ready. The lead unit was still talking on his radio, the other, Unit 45, had his weapon trained on Jones.

"Copy, will verify and report." Unit 63 put his radio on his hip, and made his way towards Jones, 45 following close behind.

Jones stood his ground, keeping his weapon aimed in the center of 63's chest. 63 stopped, took his mask off and kept his hands raised.

"Come on now, we're all friends here. No reason to shoot anyone." He said.

Jones lowered his weapon, "Who the hell are you."

63 lowered his hands, "My names Joseph Metter, and this here," He motioned to 45, "is Freddy Bayne."

Jones pointed to the tower, "Are you with them?"

Metter looked back at the Citadel, "Who them? Nah, we're undercover I guess you could say, we work for someone completely different."

"Who?" Jones demanded.

"Now hold on," Metter responded, "You're asking all these questions and we don't even know who you are."

"Jones," he extended a hand, "Lance Jones."

Metter glanced at Bayne, "So you're not Corporal Adrian Shepherd?"

Jones retracted his hand, and placed it back on his weapon, uneasy now, "No, I'm not."

Metter turned around and started walking away, "Sucks to be you then."

Jones brought his pulse rifle up but before he could Metter spun around, side arm drawn, and fired twice.

Pain seared through Jones' abdomen as one of the 9mm rounds struck him in the stomach; the other round hit him in the shoulder, the impact spinning him around. The last thing Jones saw was the ground rushing up to meet him. Then he blacked out.

Metter stood there for a few more seconds, his sidearm raised, waiting for Jones to move, when Metter was satisfied that he was dead, he holstered it and pulled his radio out, "Sierra outpost this is Recovery team Alpha, package was verified as being a liability, package has been neutralized."

A pause, a hiss of static, then, "Copy that Alpha, return to base, your cover is blown."

"Alpha copies, out." He put the radio away and looked over at Bayne, "Come on, let's get the hell out of here."

**Research Central Hub Sierra Delta**

**Undisclosed Location, United States**

"Sir, we just confirmed that the individual found was not Adrian Shepherd, and has been silenced."

The man in the black suit sighed and nodded, "Very well, better luck next time I suppose."

**3 Miles outside of City 17**

"He's pretty banged up."

"I know."

"Think you can save em doc?"

"Maybe, he's been out here a while, we need to get him back to the facility."

"Bastards lucky we got to him first before anything else did."

"Yeah, ok load him on the truck and let's get out of here before the Combine decides to pay us a visit."

"You said it."

**A/N: So it's been a long time since I've posted anything. But I just got out of basic and tech school so now I got time to actually do work. I know its short but it's something and I'll try to get more posts out ASAP. P.S. Comments make me happy lol**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Baptism By Fire**

He heard voices, they sounded panicky, he wondered why. He wondered if something happened. He tried to remember but he couldn't, he was too groggy. He felt pain, but it was far away. The voices kept talking, he strained to hear what they were saying.

"Christ he's lost a lot of blood." A man's voice said.

"I'm aware of that, now please, let me do my job." Said another voice, this one calmer than the first.

"What's his vitals?" The second voice asked.

"115/70 and rising, patient is still unresponsive." The first voice replied.

"Hmm, he's looking really pale, probably internal bleeding, which isn't good. We need to get those bullets out of him and plug up these holes before he bleeds out."

The voices faded and he slipped back into the darkness.

And thats when the nightmares began.

It was his first tour of duty in Iraq. He had only been there a month and he wanted to leave. He remembered before he joined the Army seeing the Twin Towers fall. He remembered the anger he felt, and the thirst for revenge. A month out of high school, Jones was in Boot Camp for the United States Army, one of the best things he could have done in his life. He was a grunt. An Infantryman. And he was damn proud of it.

He was 19 now, and the thirst for revenge was still there, just not as strong. Now, the main thing he felt was bored, and hot. He had been in the desert for 4 months now and nothing really had happened. Except for a few mortar attacks at the base he was stationed at, there was really nothing to do except scorpion fighting, and running away from camel spiders.

He was riding in the backseat of a Humvee, the last of a five vehicle security convoy, traveling down a one lane road, his M-16 resting between his legs, listening to his friend bitch about the heat.

"Look, all I'm sayin is this, if the damn thing is goin to the desert, put a fuckin a/c in it. Is it really that hard?"

Private 1st Class Calem Edwards had been Jones' friend since boot camp, and he bitched then too.

The driver of the Humvee, Corporal Freddy Cantu, chuckled, "If they spent the extra cash to put an a/c in em, then our already piss low wages would probably disappear and I don't know about you 'mano, but I don't like workin for free."

"Agreed." Jones said.

Suddenly the convoy came to a halt.

"Aw what the fuck? What now." Cantu groaned.

Staff Sergeant Micheal, who was in the lead Humvee, came on the radio, "All units be advised, we have a possible IED, be on alert."

"Shit." Edwards said, and checked the safety on his rifle.

Jones did the same, it was probably nothing, but you couldn't be to careful out here. He stared out the window, across the desert. With the exception of a few shrubs and rocks, there really wasn't anything out there. As he looked across the landscape, he thought he saw movement behind one of the rocks further away from the road. He squinted, and focused on the rock, but didn't see anything.

Suddenly an explosion shook the ground, and smoke and fire drifted to the sky from the front of the convoy. Then the gunfire started. It came from all around. Bullets pinged off the sides of the up-armored Humvee, and a few cracked the windshield.

"Goddammit!" Edwards screamed and returned fire from the gun port on the side.

Jones did the same, hostiles, who were previously hidden behind the rocks and shrubs Jones had been looking at, now came from all sides, firing away at the unsuspecting convoy. Jones sighted a man firing an AK-47, breathed, and squeezed the trigger. The three round burst caught the attacker in the shoulder and spun him around as he dropped to the ground.

The radio was flooded with screams of pain, soldiers trying to call for help, and people who were trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"I cant get through to anyone with this shit goin on!" Cantu yelled, radio in hand.

"Keep tryin! We need to get the fuck out of here!" Jones yelled back between bursts of gunfire.

"Lighthouse this is Kilo two-five, we have come under attack, I repeat, we are taking heavy small arms fire including mortars and rockets. Requesting immediate aerial sup...Fuck!"

A mortar round landed a few feet from their position and rocked the entire Humvee.

"We immediate aerial support and we need it now goddammit!"

Ears ringing from the explosion, Jones sighted down his rifle and continued firing at targets.

As Jones was firing, he saw a figure stand up with what could only be a rocket launcher.

"RPG! RPG!" He screamed as he opened his door and tried to get out before the rpg hit.

As soon as he jumped out the Humvee turned into a fireball. The shock of the explosion sent Jones flying forward. The lead plate in his field pack stopped most of the shrapnel from entering his body, but not all. White hot pain seared through his body as a piece of jagged metal from his Humvee, lodged itself in his arm. He screamed in agony, and tried to gain his bearings.

The blast had thrown him a good 15 ft from the remains of his vehicle. He searched the ground for his rifle, picked it up, and ran back to see if he could help his friends.

As he got close he heard the distinct whistling of mortars flying through the air. One detonated on top of his vehicle.

"Fuck!" He screamed, and turned to find other members of his convoy. There were only two Humvees left now, the rest taken out by rocket and mortar fire. He saw a squad of soldiers taking cover behind one of the remaining Humvees, trying to keep the rushing attackers at bay.

Jones started running towards them. One of the soldiers saw Jones and started shouting something. Jones couldn't hear what the soldier was yelling until it was too late.

"RPG!" Jones turned to his left and saw nothing, then turned right, he saw a flash and heard a 'whoosh' as the rocket jumped off of the launcher. The rocket detonated at Jones' feet. Heat washed over his body and knocked him backward. Shrapnel littered his body. He screamed from the pain.

He shot up in his bed soaked in sweat, the sounds of the ambush still playing in his ears. After a few seconds however, the sounds didn't diminish. If anything, they got louder. Then he realized that the sounds were coming from outside his room.

Immediately his instincts kicked in. There was a threat close by and he needed to move. He jumped out of bed, his boots and ACU pants were still on. He quietly made his way to the door and put his ear to it and listened. It sounded like the battle had made its way into the building. Gunfire, screams and the sounds of people running could be heard.

He listened for a few more seconds as the gunfire started to die down. That could mean one of two things. One, the battle had moved on, or two, there less people on one side to shoot back. He was going to assume the latter of the two, and he still hadn't figured out if that was bad or not.

Either way he needed a plan of action. He couldn't stay here, it was just a matter of time before someone, whether they be hostile or not, could come in here and think he was a target. On the other side, he had no idea who he could trust out there. He'd already been betrayed once since he woke up from that weird ass place.

After arguing with himself for a few more seconds, he finally decided to go outside and see what was going on. Hopefully he would be able to find a weapon. He stood at the door a few more seconds before finally cracking the door open slowly.

He cracked it just enough so he could kind of see his surroundings. A few feet from his position was a man laying face down in a pool of his own blood. But more importantly, Jones saw a 9mm strapped to his leg. He pushed the door open a little more, after confirming there was no hostiles, he made his way over to the man.

He double checked for a pulse and found none. He checked the clip, saw that it was full, made sure the weapon was safed, and searched the body for any more clips. He found two. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Jones stood, pistol at the low, ready position, and started walking down the hallway. The sounds of fighting were almost completely gone, with the exception of the chatter of automatic weapons fire here and there. This fight was done, but Jones knew that there would still probably be sweep teams in the area.

He needed to find a better weapon. He turned down another hallway and saw more dead bodies. They were all dressed in blue suits, and most of them had a lambda symbol on them. That was weird. He checked all the bodies for weapons but found none, apparently somebody had been through here. Or they shot down unarmed civilians.

He tucked his pistol in the small of his back and bent down next to one of the bodies. The man had three bloody ragged holes in his chest. His eyes were still open in surprise. Jones closed the man's eyes with his fingers, and checked him for ammo.

While Jones was checking the body, he heard footsteps approaching quickly. He looked around for cover, and saw an empty room that was completely dark. He ran into it and took cover behind an office desk that was placed there. He positioned himself where he still had a view of the hallway so he could surprise anyone who decided to walk in.

Two CP units stopped in front of the room, both of them armed with MP7 submachine guns. Jones assessed the situation. He could take them both out right now, but that was risky, and he wasn't about to get gunned down again. One of the units said something Jones couldn't make out. He figured they were clearing the area.

Ok, he thought to himself, its now or never. All he had to do was take out one, then the other, two shots, two kills. Easier said than done.

He took a deep breath, took the safety off his pistol, got into position, he jumped from his cover but before he could shoot, gunshots rang out and the two CP's got mowed down in a flood of automatic fire.

One of the attackers ran into the room, saw Jones' figure and fired again.

"Fuck!" Jones yelled, and dove for cover.

He was about to return fire when he heard a voice, "Watch your fucking fire! Jesus son your goin kill the wrong God damned person one day."

"But I saw someone in there!" the other voice, a woman's, protested.

"Is that right?" The first voice asked.

"Your damn fucking right thats right!" Jones yelled.

"Who's there?" The voice demanded, "identify yourself or we will kill you!"

"Doin a great job so fucking far," Jones muttered to himself, then, "Lance Jones, who are you?"

"Names Michael McPhearson, now why don't you drop any weapons you have and come out with your hands up."

Jones almost laughed in disbelief, "Last time I stood up Wyatt Earp over there almost made me a holy man."

McPhearson chuckled, "Yeah he does that, but your ok now, so come on out."

"Fine, but I keep my gun." Jones said.

"Fine, just get the fuck outta there before more CP's show up."

Jones got up slowly from behind the desk, keeping his eyes trained at the two people standing in the doorway, MP7's at the low ready position. McPhearson and his trigger happy companion seemed nervous, which in turn made Jones edgy. He noted that they wore the same denim blue jumpsuits as the bodies he found earlier, they even had the same symbol.

"Ok," McPhearson said, scooping up an MP7 off one of the dead CP's, "Here's the deal, I don't know if we can trust you but we gotta get the hell outta here before the Combine take out everyone here, so lets get a move on."

Jones took the gun, checked the magazine, and grabbed a few more off of the bodies. "Sounds like a plan." He agreed.

McPhearson looked around then lowered his voice, "Good, me and Jessica here," he nodded to his companion, who was a fairly short blond haired girl woman, "are tryin to get to the garage on the other side of the bunkers. Its not too far from here, and if we're lucky there'll still be a vehicle for us to use."

"And if theres not?" Jones asked.

McPhearson gave him a grim look, "Then we're fucked."

Jones nodded, "Gotcha."

"Whats with your clothes?" Jessica asked out of nowhere.

McPhearson looked at him again, with a strange look on his face. "You were in the army?"

"I still am." Jones answered.

McPhearson shook his head, "No son, your not, not anymore."

**A/N: Its been awhile since I put anything up. But im on leave so I got some free time. Read and review please, also I need someone to proof read my stories so if anyone is interested let me know.**


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